Cheating death again?
by Moore12
Summary: Charlie is left alone to face down a Hungarian Horntail after his partner left him for dead. With only his trusty broom and a gun, will he somehow find a way to make it past the dragon? Lots of family memories, angst, and humor! Chase scene! R&R!


_Hi, guys, I'm new writing stories for Harry Potter. Please enjoy. It's about what would happen if Charlie came face to face with a Hungurian Horntail with only a broom and a gun after his partner ditched him. Cutsey family memories and lots of angst due to fighting off a dragon included. I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER! Enjoy and review! ~Moore12~_

**Cheating Death…again? **

At that moment, the sliver of wood that was missing didn't seem all too powerful. Facing certain death—backed into a corner by an extremely angry Hungarian Horntail—he still instinctually reached for it even though he knew all too well it was no longer in his possession. No, his cowardly new partner had stolen it from him in a desperate attempt to save himself which had ultimately worked—he had gotten away…and left Charlie for dead, to be the Horntail's snack. _I should've never trusted him_, he thought bitterly. _I knew he was trouble the moment I saw him. So much for not leaving a man behind! Not that having my wand would make that much of a difference…_

And, as the Horntail closed in on him and he backed further into the cavern because there was nowhere else for him to go, he knew that he—who had always been described by his co-workers as "indestructible"—was about to be burned or eaten alive. Neither option seemed too appealing. _Well, Charlie, getting swallowed seems painless. But getting toasted like a marshmallow? That doesn't sound too fun. Well, I guess it'd be fun for the dragon, _he thought, trying in vain to make light of his horrible situation. Somehow the joke didn't seem funny in the least.

The Horntail was staring at him with his large yellow eye. But he didn't look curious at all, no he just looked hungry. For a moment, Charlie was certain he was going to eat him, and he braced himself for the beast's head to shoot into the cavern and snap him up. That's when he remembered, he had a gun—the one Muggle invention his dad could never seem to figure out. _Well, it's better than nothing_, he thought—only vaguely happy—as he reached into the holster and pulled the gun out. _But it's not going to kill a dragon, that's for sure. _

The Horntail seemed to be waiting for him to make a move before attacking him, which was surprising because he could tell just by looking him that he was hungry. His lip was upturned and smoke was streaming out of his nostrils. Beginning to grow frustrated—and, well, the adrenaline was pumping because he was about to take on a fully grown Hungarian Horntail with only a pistol—he yelled, "Ye dumb bloke, if you're going to eat me get it over with!"

Seemingly outraged by Charlie calling him a "dumb bloke" (even though Charlie knew he didn't speak any English) the Horntail opened his mouth. Only seconds later, an intense blast of fire erupted from it. But since Charlie have been trained to handle such situations—_well, not being cornered by the most dangerous type of dragon alive without a wand_, he had to admit even then—he pushed himself into a small but deep crevice in the cavern's wall as the fire shot past him. The heat was intense, and, for a moment, he was convinced that he was going to die even though the fire wasn't hitting him. And then it was over, and he was able to breathe again. Laughing to himself, he thought, _I guess it is a dumb bloke of a dragon after all. Bet he thinks he toasted me alive and is going to be having roasted Charlie for dinner._

But, for some reason, even though he thought he cheated death again, he didn't step out of his crevice. No, as he listened for movement outside—hopefully the flapping of wings signaling he could, at least, retrieve his broom and get ready to scram—he couldn't help but think about his family. He didn't know why memories of them suddenly flooded his mind—_maybe that's what happens when you almost get killed_, he thought—but they did. Almost instinctually, he started thinking about the family he had left behind to chase this dream—the one thing he had ever admitted to truly loving (other than Quidditch of course).

"_You want to do what?" his mom snapped, staring at him like he was crazy. "Charles Weasley, what's gotten into you?" _

_His dad reacted a little more reasonably. "Charlie," he sighed deeply, "what happened to wanting to play Quidditch? I thought that you were going to try out for one of the teams in the area." _

_Shoot, he thought. Reckon I should've told them about wanting to work with dragons sooner and not on the day I'm scheduled to leave. But the assumption had always been that he would go on to play Quidditch because he was, after all, Gryffindor's star seeker, and he had never worked up to tell them that wasn't what he really wanted. Before his mom could continue yelling at him, his older brother, Bill, stepped in and asked, "So, you're leaving today then, Char?" _

_Smiling at him—basically thanking him for saving him from having to answer some painful questions—he answered, "Yeah. My boss sent an owl yesterday afternoon saying I was to start tomorrow." _

"_WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE PULLING A FAST ONE ON ME!" his mom screamed at the top of her lungs. For a moment, Charlie thought was in the middle of the unpleasant experience of opening a howler because her voice was so loud. This, though, was worse, he had to admit. "I WILL NOT ALLOW MY SON TO WORK WITH DRAGONS, DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU COULD DIE! DON'T…"_

"_Molly…" his dad shot her a warning look as he grabbed her by the hand. And then he turned to Charlie and asked, "Son, is this what you really want?"_

_Forcing himself to sound as confident as he possibly can (because he didn't his mom to sense any hesitation because she'd pounce on him for it) he replied, "Yes." It wasn't too difficult because this was truly what he wanted—it was what he wanted more than anything else in the entire world. _

"_Well, it's settled then." That was the only thing his dad said. Waiting for him to say more—maybe something along the lines of "I'm proud of you" or "Good luck"—he quickly came to the realization that he wasn't going to say anything else. _

_Bill shot him a sympathetic look and broke the awkward silence by saying, "Well, I guess you should say goodbye to everyone else before you leave." _

And as he pressed himself against the rocky wall—still concealed in his small crevice that had saved his life already—he realized something that almost brought tears to his eyes—he, the fearless, hardened dragon keeper. The realization made him even more determined to find a way to make it out of this alive. _I wish I had my wand_, he thought bitterly. But then, he added, largely to make himself feel better, _But that would make things to easy…_

As far as he could tell, the Horntail was growing restless. He could hear the sound of its potentially lethal spiked tail banging impatiently on the ground. _What? Does he expect his dinner to walk right into his mouth or something? _Charlie had to fight back a laugh. Because, so long as the dragon didn't know where he was (or if he was even alive) he had the upper hand (_well, sort of_, he thought nervously).

Unlike his dad, he had experience with firearms. It was a requirement of his job. Carefully and quietly, he pulled a clip out of his pocket and loaded his pistol. He loaded it just in time because the Horntail—clearly tired of waiting to eat his snack—poked his head into the cavern, and Charlie was suddenly faced with one large yellow eye staring at him maliciously. Without thinking, he pulled the trigger and shot the beast in the eye.

The dragon roared with pain—now blinded in that eye—and pulled his head out of the cavern. Charlie could tell that he was probably randomly breathing fire in his rage. _Sorry, buddy, didn't want to have to do that_, he thought to himself, knowing his boss wouldn't be thrilled he shot a dragon in the eye even though he was trying to eat him. But, quickly, he tore himself from his thoughts because he knew this would be his one shot. Even though he knew it would be dangerous, he had to go for it.

Slowly and carefully, he slid out of the crevice and, practically walking on his tiptoes to keep from making a sound, he slid out of the cavern, keeping his back firmly against the wall the entire way. When he got outside, he saw that the dragon was now thrashing his giant head around in rage, and, since he was slipping away on his blind side, he couldn't see him.

And there—lying about only fifty feet away—was his broomstick. _Alright, Charlie, once you get past the angry dragon and get your broom, you're home free_, he told himself, not feeling in the least confident. The last time he had gotten into such a sticky situation was about three months ago, and he had to suffer through horrible treatments for burns because a Common Welsch Green had repaid the favor of helping to deliver her babies (because, for some reason, they couldn't seem to get out of their shells) by shooting a fireball at him and burning his right arm. And he wasn't about to fool himself…he had never faced anything quite like this.

He knew he was saver once he got into the air. He was, after all, an expert flier. Down on the ground, he pretty much was at the Horntail's mercy but up in the air was another story. So, not really caring if the dragon heard him or not, he broke into a run. He had to get to the broom; if he didn't…he shuddered at the thought. _If I don't get there_, he thought as he ran like he had never before, _who's going to look after Ginny? And what'll happen to my family? Mom would probably die of her grief… _

By some stroke of luck, he reached his broom—his old, faithful Cleansweep Seven he never had the heart to replace. The problem? Just as he reached his broom, the Horntail swerved and, seeing him with his good eye, roared. Just as he took off, the dragon beat his wings and flew after him. _Well, this isn't good_. Was the only thought that entered Charlie's mind as he shot into the sky like a bullet.

Running only on adrenaline and his lone desire at the moment, Charlie flew through the sky as fast as his broom could go with the Horntail right on his heels. Narrowly avoiding a stream of fire by diving at exactly the right moment, he had to think of the irony of it all. He had turned down a career in Quidditch partly because he was better with magical creatures than with his broom (which was saying something) and now it would be his flying skills that would save (or destroy him). _Let's see what he's got! _he thought wryly. _See if he can fly with the famous Charlie Weasley who turned down being a star seeker for this! _

His only hope was to make the Horntail run into something and daze himself. Otherwise, he knew all too well he would pursue him relentless out of both hunger and revenge. And for that he would need to perform the one move he was never able to really master: the Wronski Defensive Feint. It was a move he hadn't been able to perform even at the height of his career, and part of him doubted he could pull it off given all the injuries he had suffered over the years as a dragon keeper. But there was no other way; he had to do it if he was going to live to see another day. _And too many people rely on me for me to die like this_, he thought sadly. _Even if I haven't always…_

Torn from his thoughts by having to dodge yet another stream of fire—this stream went crackling past him, and, to his horror, caught the back end of his broom on fire. He didn't have time to blow it our—or a wand to magically put it out—and he realized instantly that it was now or never. Looking around—hoping that, by some miracle, his fellow dragon keepers were arriving to rescue him—he saw that nobody was coming to help him. It was him and his now burning Cleansweep Seven versus an extremely angry, vicious Hungarian Horntail. _What could possibly go wrong? _he thought sarcastically as he began his plunge towards the ground.

If he weren't being chased by the Horntail, the near vertical plunge would be exhilarating. In a way, it was, but, on the other hand, if he messed up he was dead. _Hey, I always needed the stakes to be high to compete at my best_, he thought, beginning to laugh even though he didn't mean to. _And these stakes couldn't get any higher._ He looked over his shoulder for a split second to see that the Horntail was following him but had opened his mouth—revealing his dangerously sharp teeth. Knowing that it wasn't about to shoot fire at him—no, it was going to try to eat him after all—he returned his complete attention to his flying. He could feel the wind in his hair—the wind that was, luckily, pushing the flames away from him—and, just as he got perilously close to the ground, he veered upward with all his strength…

For a moment, he thought he was done for, that he had waited for too long to pull up. But just when he thought it was all over, just as he was about to brace himself for impact, he managed to pull up just before hitting the ground. The dragon—perhaps unable to properly judge depth because of his blind eye—smashed into the ground head first. He had just pulled off a near perfect Wronski Defensive Feint and outsmarted a Hungarian Horntail (well a fairly stupid and half-blind Horntail, but a Horntail none the less). But he didn't have time to celebrate because when the dragon crashed, it's long, spike-covered tail lashed out of nowhere and hit Charlie hard, sending him flying off his broom and into the dirt about twenty five feet away.

When he hit the ground, pain ripped through him, all coming from his right arm. Groaning in pain, he still managed to roll over onto his back and haul himself to his feat—hoping that the Horntail wouldn't be there to greet him. To his surprise, the Horntail was half-staggering, half-flapping away. _Dumb bloke_, he thought as he began limping his way to his broom when he was certain it was safe. _Probably is going to be dazed for the rest of the day. _

The pain in his arm was almost unbearable—he was certain he had shattered it—and blood was pouring out of a gash in his shoulder that one of the spikes had hit. But he was alive, and none of that seemed to matter. No, the only thing that mattered was that he was alive. After a long walk to his broom, he picked it out of the dirt. The back end was burnt fairly badly but the broom was still in working order. _Good_, he thought simply, mounting his broom and beginning the long flight back to headquarters.

Piloting his broom with one hand, his thoughts quickly drifted back to his family again—the memory of the day he had decided to leave his family behind to exact. With a pang, he realized they were also the family he hadn't seen in what felt like ages. Sure, he sometimes sent them letters and helped Ron smuggle a baby dragon out of Hogwarts but still…

"_What do you mean you're leaving?" his little brother, Ron, stared back at him indignantly. Charlie could tell he was fighting back tears. "You can't just leave!" _

"_Ron, it's okay, mate. I got a job. Remember when Bill left? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Charlie reached down and patted Ron on the shoulder, hoping that somehow that would comfort him. "And if you ever need me, I'm always an owl away." _

_Sniffing, Ron looked up at him with huge, tear filled eyes and asked in a small voice, "Really?" _

"_Really," Charlie answered, smiling at him. "And I'll make sure to tell you all about the dragons I work with too. Sound good?" _

_Ron no longer looked like he was going to start crying. Instead, he was beaming. "Sounds great!" he exclaimed happily. "Wait until I tell everyone my brother works with dragons!" _

_Charlie couldn't help but smile at that one. Yeah, I'm going to be famous for it if Ron has his way, he thought. Almost as soon as Ron had finished his sentence, Ginny, who had apparently been hiding behind Bill, appeared and hugged him around the legs. "I'll miss you," she said tearfully. _

"_I'll miss you too," he said as he lifted her off the floor in a tight bear hug. "But I'll keep in touch, alright?" _

_Ginny didn't answer—she was crying too much. For a moment, Charlie regretted his decision, but that thought quickly faded. Everyone leaves home, he reasoned. And it's time. _

"_Aw, how sweet! Look, Fred, Ginny's going with him after all!" _

_That exclamation alerted Charlie to the presence of his two prankster little brothers. Putting Ginny down, he laughed, "Alright, guys, what do you want this time?" _

"_Not much, really," Fred answered for them both. "But you should have something to drink before you fly to Romania." Charlie realized instantly Fred was carrying a coffee cup containing something that was clearly not coffee—no, it smelled revolting and was a disgusting shade of puke green. _

"_What is that?" Charlie asked as he took a step back. _

"_An energy drink," George answered innocently. "What don't you trust us, Char?" _

_Chucking under his breath, he answered shortly, "I don't trust whatever's in that cup!" _

_After whispering between themselves for a few moments, Bill broke them up by saying, "You know Charlie doesn't have all day for you two to gossip like old witches." _

_With that, they both said goodbye—one at a time. Luckily for Charlie, their handshakes were innocent enough after all. When they were done, Charlie said one final goodbye and walked back outside with Bill to see his parents one last time before leaving._

"_Thanks, Bill, for having my back when I told Mum and Dad," he said slowly, trying not to show Bill that saying goodbye to him was going to be the hardest. _

"_Not a problem, Charlie," Bill laughed. "I'm just glad you didn't let Mum talk you out of it." _

"_That wasn't happening!" Charlie snickered. "I would've gotten to Romania even if I had to drag her behind me!" _

_They had a good laugh over that, but then the mood grew serious again. Finally, Bill stopped him by putting his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Look, Char, be careful, alright? I don't want to get any owls about you getting in any trouble, you hear?" _

"_You sound just like Mum," Charlie teased. And then, realizing that this would be the last time he would see his brother for awhile, he said softly, "I'm going to miss you, mate." _

_Bill slapped him on the shoulder and answered, "I'm going to miss you too. Keep in touch, you hear?" _

"_Yeah, I hear ye," Charlie smiled. Realizing that his mom and dad were looking at him expectedly, he said, "Well, got to go say goodbye to them too. See you around, Bill." _

_Bill didn't answer, and, with a pang, Charlie realized there were tears in his eyes. But he didn't stop to comfort him; instead he made his way over to where his mom and dad were standing. _

_His dad smiled a forced smile at him and said, "Take care, Charlie. And if it gets too dangerous out there, you can always come back here…"_

"_Alright, Dad," Charlie cut him off before he could continue. And then his dad slapped him on the shoulder, and that was that. One down, one to go, he thought, still trying to get through all the goodbyes without breaking down. _

"_Charlie…" his mom was clearly about to tell him to take care of himself—which basically translated to "don't get killed" he knew—but she couldn't. She just swept him up into a strong hug and whispered, "I love you, Charlie." _

"_Love you too, Mum," he answered as he hugged her back. _

_And, when all the goodbyes were over, he flew off into the distance on his old Cleansweep Seven—his trunk filled with belongings behind him—and didn't even look back at his old home…_

Headquarters. He had made it to headquarters without incident. Sighing with genuine relief, he landed and, carrying his broom in one hand, walked over to the rather small building that contained their supplies and bunks. When he got there, he let himself in.

He was in for a surprise. Because, the moment he walked inside, he was greeted by the annoying, whiny voice of his traitorous partner. "I tried to save him, I really did!" he was saying, his voice wavering and filled with sadness. Phony sadness, Charlie knew all too well. "But the Horntail had him cornered. I tried to shoot him with a stunning spell, but it didn't do any good. And then…" His partner paused—_for dramatic effect_, he thought, mildly amused but more furious—and sniffled, "And then the dragon snatched him up in his jaws…and…and threw him into the air. I couldn't do anything to save him, I could only save his wand…It was awful you should…"

"…have heard him scream. Oh, it was so pitiful, and it was such a pitiful site too. Poor Weasley, snapped in half—screaming the whole time—by a Hungarian Horntail." Charlie stepped out from behind the bookshelf he had been hiding behind and finished his partner's sentence for him.

All around the table, his co-workers' face went white with shock. "Charlie, is that you?" his boss, an older, more experienced dragon keeper named Todd Filmoor asked.

"No, it's my ghost," Charlie exclaimed sarcastically. "Who do you think it is?"

And then all eyes swerved to his partner—the wretched little monster—and Todd yelled angrily, "I thought you said the dragon ate Charlie…"

"It's clearly his ghost, sir, playing tricks on us now!" his partner wailed unconvincingly, still trying to worm out of his inevitable fate.

Laughing—laughing despite everything that had happed—Charlie stalked over to where his partner sat and growled, "You're going to wish I was a ghost when I get through with you, Flint."

After Flint was dragged out—screaming about how unjust all this was—Charlie was left standing alone in the common room with Todd. Todd smiled faintly at him and ordered, "You should go see a healer immediately about those wounds." And then he added, a small smile on his face, "You can never trust a Slytherin, can you?"

"Still don't know why he quit that cushy little job of his to come here," Charlie muttered darkly. "Never liked Marcus much. He was always an arrogant kid."

"You're just saying that because he played for Slytherin's house team," Todd raised an eyebrow and looked at him quizzically.

"No, I'm saying that BECAUSE HE TRIED TO KILL ME!" But almost as soon as he finished his sentence, he had dissolved into laughter even though he had, in fact, tried to kill him.

After a moment where they just laughed, Todd ordered him again to go to see a healer about his injuries. But before he went, he turned to Todd and asked, "Sir, I've never asked for anything. Is there any way I could have off to go to the Quidditch World Cup? My family has tickets…"

Todd smiled at him and said, "I'll see what I can do. I mean, you are going to have to have some time off to recover…" And then he added, a smirk forming on his face, "And don't worry about Flint. We have ways of dealing with those who abandon their partners here."

Hours later, as he lay in his bed resting after being poked and prodded and forced to drink horrible tasting potions by the healer, he wrote a note to his family for the healer to send via owl post. He was coming home after all…after nearly cheating death (again) of course. _What a great story to tell everyone! _he thought, laughing weakly to himself. _Well… almost everyone. _He knew if a certain someone in his house found out he had almost been killed by a Horntail, he would have escaped the beast for nothing…He knew that all too well…


End file.
